The
word ‘slough’ − like sludge, slurry and slime − is almost onomatopoeically
awful. In old English it means ‘a swamp; a miry place; a quagmire’, an image
that the place Slough itself hasn’t entirely shaken off. Slough
seems, in short, an unlikely site for architectural speculation.
However
to Royal College of Art student Simon Moxey the place is on the up. ‘In July, Slough became the European entry point for the first
transatlantic fibre-optic cable laid since the dotcom boom,’ he beams. ‘This
new cable will shave five milliseconds off the time it takes to make a trade
between Europe and New York.’
And
while this may seem finical and trifling, to high-frequency trading firms the
principle of ‘time is money’ needs a finer measure than grains of sand, with
each millisecond apparently having million-dollar implications. While this may
seem an unusual starting point for an architectural project, the banal can
often shape the whole identity of cities.
The
brick party walls required post-Fire of London
engendered the city’s terraced town houses; while the invention of the lift
gave rise to the towering ambitions of the American city.
Why
not an urbanism configured to cable latency, and the time it takes to send a
message? Slough Global
City reimagines Slough as a
higher-speed Canary
Wharf, usurping the
existing financial centres of the City and Docklands (itself, in its time, a
usurper), in order to regenerate the fortunes of a maligned outer town.
And
if the idea of a development laid out according to the whim of bankers makes
you feel uncomfortable, it is meant to. Though GAGA set out to move away from
the recent celebration of dystopia in architectural student projects, the
judges felt that the scheme didn’t fit into that category.







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